


the forgotten

by green_piggy



Series: bond writes for fe femslash 2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Enemies to Friends, F/F, FEFemslash2020, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Internalised Racism, a bisexual and a lesbian must work together... what happens next will warm your heart, let me whoop ashnard's ass with his son, someone has to write tellius femslash and by GOD that someone is GONNA BE M E, soren features juuuuust enough to justify a tag, this fic is just "petrine is shown basic kindness and does NOT know how to cope", when the FUCK are the tellius antagonists getting added to heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: The battle at Riven Bridge goes askew when Petrine and Titania fall into the sea together.
Relationships: Prague | Petrine/Tiamat | Titania
Series: bond writes for fe femslash 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630966
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34
Collections: FE Femslash February 2020





	the forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> as with all of my 2020 femslash fics so far, i did not at all plan this one out. amazing! i literally just saw two fire emblem women who weren't teenagers and my brain went "hhhhhh ship them" and the rest was history. thanks tellius for having awesome armour designs for your ladies. thanks for being awesome in general. no thanks for makalov. like, what the fuck.
> 
> *claps hands* i! have! no! idea! how! this! is! 5k!
> 
> it's not as edited as much as i'd like, but my hands feel like they've been grinded by a chainsaw as of late, so i don't want to aggravate them too much. self-care matters! i'll edit later
> 
> hope you enjoy~

Riven Bridge was supposed to be Petrine’s grave.

That terrible feeling of death crawled up her spine, its claws digging into her skin as the Crimean army advanced ever closer, dodging the countless pitfalls they’d dug and killing any troops in their way. Despite that feeling, Petrine only scowled, allowing the fire in her veins to pulse through her lance. When that pathetic little half-breed mage came scuttling towards her, winds bellowing around him, Petrine was only too happy to put him out of his misery.

For all of his bravo, he was almost-laughingly weak physically. It was all too easy to pin him to the ground, his waist crushed under her horse’s foot, and raise her lance for the final blow.

“Any final words?” she sneered.

He said nothing, eyes defiant, lips twisted into a sneer of his own. It only made the flames within her flare stronger.

She raised her lance—

Her wrist snapped, almost breaking clean in twine under a crushing blow. Her lance flew out of her hand. Petrine stumbled off her horse and caught herself on the ground. She didn’t scream, but she winced and clutched her wrist to her chest.

A poleaxe swung towards her. Petrine ducked under it and bounced onto her feet.

“You will  _ not  _ harm my family!” roared a woman’s voice, followed by a horse’s neigh.

The woman who stood in front of Petrine was one that she had seen before. It would have been impossible to not remember that trail of ginger hair, like flames cascading down her back, nor the chipped white armour that spoke of many a battle fought - and won.

_ “I  _ am your opponent!” she yelled.

Petrine smirked.

With her free hand, she wiggled her fingers and curled them, summoning flames to lick her palm. The spirits wouldn’t harm the one who had summoned them.

“Titania-!” the boy called. Petrine stamped down hard on his wrist, a sharp thrill running through her at the deafening crack of bone.

If the woman - Titania - had been furious before, now she was  _ murderous. _

Petrine wouldn’t have had it any other way.

She thrust out the ball of flames. It wasn’t nearly as potent as it would have been with a tome or her lance, but it was adequate. Her other hand dangled at her side, useless. Petrine was used to pain. This agonising throbbing in her wrist was nothing.

The woman’s horse whinnied in panic as flames caught on its lower body. Titania looked down, eyes wide, before they narrowed in a glare towards Petrine.

Petrine had seen all kinds of looks from the many,  _ many  _ soldiers she’d slayed. Fear, terror, panic…

So very rarely had she seen anything as violent as  _ this. _

Oh, how  _ delightful. _

Titania threw herself off her horse with a cry, weapon raised high in the air. Petrine dodged with ease. The woman was skilled - her poleaxe didn’t even come closer to the parentless, nor did she hesitate before lunging forward blindly. A sloppy mistake, to be sure. She was clearly allowing her emotions to consume her.

Petrine’s boot scuffed empty air. She glanced behind her, and that awful, crippling  _ you’ll die you’ll die you’ll  _ **_die_ ** chanted in her mind, for all that stretched behind her was a sharp drop into the great yawn of sea between Daein and Crimea.

Her head snapped back. If she didn’t dodge this—

She leapt to the side. She was a fraction of a second too late. The poleaxe’s blade nicked her arm and sent her reeling backwards.

Arms flailing, Petrine’s hand latched onto Titania’s arm and  _ yanked.  _ She would not go alone. She refused to die by herself.

The air whizzed around her ears as they fell, the stench of salt water suffocating her nostrils. Her eyes were burning. Titania’s poleaxe flew past her and landed with an almighty  _ plop  _ in the rocky waves below. The woman herself had her eyes blown wide. Yells and neighs came from the clifftop.

Then Petrine’s back smashed the surface of the water, and she knew no more.

* * *

Petrine awoke to her entire body screaming and the sound of waves hitting the shore.

Before she could blink, her mouth was forced open by probing fingers. She tried to snarl and bite on them, but there was nothing teeth could do against armour. No words came out despite her best attempts; she sounded like a howling half-breed, twisting and turning and making her entire body feel even worse.

Something cool and bitter dripped onto her tongue. A concoction. The sheer shock of it was enough to quiet her down as the liquid continued to cascade.

A gentle  _ twink  _ of a glass bottle being put down. The person’s other hand gripped either side of her jaw and pulled, no doubt trying to make her swallow.

Petrine yanked her head away. She wasn’t so weak as to be unable to  _ drink. _

After a couple of seconds, the hand left. Petrine gulped down that bitterness, again and again, until her body stopped aching and started to go numb. Concoctions weren’t ideal for wounds like blunt force trauma, but they would suffice. It wasn’t as though Petrine knew any faith magic, and she doubted the other person did, either.

A hand rested on her shoulder and squeezed. “How are you feeling?”

_ Like death warmed over,  _ she wanted to spit. Instead, Petrine forced open her eyes. The first thing they caught on was the circle of fire around the person’s head, one that trailed past their shoulder and almost tinkled Petrine’s nose.

The woman from earlier, she realised after a second of being dazed. The same woman she’d dragged down with her.

...Had  _ saved  _ her?

“What are you  _ doing?”  _ Petrine hissed. Her words came out weak and croaked, like a frog ribbiting without a voice. She refused to let the humiliation she was feeling show.

The woman removed her hand. “Saving your life,” came her firm reply. She stood up and offered a hand. Petrine slapped it away, pushing herself up with her own two hands. Just like she always had done, and always would do.

The area that they were in was remarkable in how utterly  _ unremarkable  _ it was. They were currently in a small alcove off a patch of sand that could, perhaps, have pretended to be a beach. Waves rolled and smashed against the boulders jutting from the sea, singing their quiet lull. Over in the far horizon, the sun had almost set in a cloudy sky.

“We’re at the bottom of the Riven Bridge.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Petrine snapped.

“My name is Titania,” she said, undisturbed, staring out at the sea, her back to Petrine. She stood on the edge between rock and sand, and bent down to pluck something from the ground. “It’s a miracle we both survived, frankly.”

It wasn’t really. Not with the tiger blood within her. It was the very reason why she wasn’t shivering and stuttering from hypothermia despite having been soaked in a far northern sea in late winter.

“I pulled you from the waves.” Titania sighed. She turned back to Petrine, a seashell sitting smug in her fist. “I suggest we work together to return to the Riven Bridge. I swear, on my honour as a mercenary, that I, and all of my crew, will not harm you. You will be free to go.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Titania tilted her head.

“All of my soldiers are dead,” Petrine spat. “Why shouldn’t I thrust my lance through your back and be done with you? Why should I help you at all?” Yes, her lance was either sitting on the cliff top or washed away into the goddess-knew-where, but Petrine could use her bare hands with ease. She could dig her nails into the weak flesh of the woman’s cheeks and rip them apart without breaking a sweat, or gorge her eyes out with a jab, or grab her stupid, fire-like hair and drag her along the ground with it. She could set her hands ablaze and watch her flesh sizzle and flake off, pressing into her skin harder and harder. She could - she  _ could -  _ she  _ should— _

Titania didn’t rise to the bait or give any kind of reaction. Curious, given how bloodthirsty she’d been just hours before. She continued to inspect the seashell in her hands, as though the two of them were lifelong lovers having a quaint stroll along the beach together, and not seasoned warriors fighting on opposite sides of this vicious war.

The silence was deafening. Petrine could feel her every nerve fraying. Her head was throbbing. Her muscles were aching. Her wrist was still utterly useless.

_ “Answer me!” _

“You’re too terrified of dying,” Titania said, voice serene. She glanced up and smiled -  _ smiled -  _ at Petrine. “I saw your face the very moment you fell. I recognise that feeling no matter the person that wears it.”

The brand on her breast was burning. Petrine resisted the urge to scratch it, to rip it off her skin, as if that would somehow make her  _ normal.  _ Stop this cursed, sub-human blood coursing through her veins.

A hand rested on her own.

“Don’t do that,” Titania said, her voice soft but stern.

It was the softness that Petrine’s mind lingered on - the cloying  _ pity  _ that dripped from those three words.

_ I know,  _ Titania was saying.  _ I know what you are. _

Petrine ripped her hand away.  _ “Don’t touch me,”  _ she hissed. “And whatever nonsense you’re thinking of - stop it,  _ right now.” _

Titania said nothing. She only continued to look at Petrine with those terrible eyes. Nobody had ever looked at her with such - such  _ gentleness  _ before. Not somebody who had tried to kill her just hours ago. Not even her family, or Ashnard, or Ena,  _ or— _

With a snarl, Petrine twisted her head away. She focused her glare on the waves and narrowed her eyes as much as she could, hoping to somehow ignite them. Was that childish of her? Perhaps, but what  _ else  _ could she do? Titania may have forced a concoction down her throat (and it didn’t seem to have been poisoned), but her legs still dragged and her back screamed if she bent it even an inch too far. Even with the cursed blood coursing through her, as she was, she couldn’t get back up to the bridge by herself.

Would any of her soldiers even be looking for her?

...Would anyone even miss her if she was dead? Would anyone mourn her loss, or would they simply shrug their shoulders and carry on?

Foolish. She was one of the Four Riders. Of  _ course  _ she’d be missed.

Yet, somehow, that thought brought little comfort.

“Can you make a fire?” Titania asked. Her voice broke Petrine out of her thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“I saw you use fire magic without a tome,” she continued. Her words were casual, as if being able to cast magic without a tome wasn’t an extremely rare phenomenon virtually unheard of for normal beorc. “Care to keep us warm?”

“You’re being rather casual, aren’t you?”

Now Titania turned her head towards Petrine. With the bloody sunset sinking over the rocking waves, it cast her face in dark shadows. There were flaws there that Petrine hadn’t noticed before; the slight wrinkles around her eyes; tiny nicknacks of scars splattered over her cheeks and neck, along with a particularly nasty-looking scar that crawled out from under her collar; eyebags, slight but deep, as though they were permanently etched into her skin.

One of Titania’s eyebrows raised. Petrine tore her gaze away, unable to explain the slight heat that fell over her face.

The air tasted of salt.

Titania didn’t speak. She was clearly waiting for Petrine to continue.

“I thought you hated me,” Petrine teased with a smirk. “Change your mind that quickly, hmm?”

“Oh, no. I do.” The tranquility in Titania’s voice sent chills down her back. “I would gladly thrust my axe through your spine and watch the blade jut from your mouth.” She let out a sudden sigh and rested her cheek on her palm. “But I like to believe I’m a good person, so I won’t. Killing you wouldn’t bring about justice. You hurt my family.  _ Very  _ few people get away with that. And… you remind me of someone who I hold very dear to my heart.”

“Your  _ family?”  _ Petrine sneered. Her mind flashed back to that pathetic whelp she’d so easily crushed underneath her foot.  _ “Surely  _ you don’t mean that little paren—”

The cool tip of a blade rested on her forehead. Petrine hadn’t even blinked - and there Titania was, smiling, but with a storm raging in her eyes.

“I’d advise you not to continue,” Titania said.

Grunting, Petrine raised a hand and gently pushed aside the woman’s weapon. Titania pulled it back, her eyes never leaving Petrine as she laid it across her lap. She gave a miniscule wince. Something in Petrine’s consciousness, something she didn’t even think she possessed, made her lean forward.

“Did you give me a concoction when  _ you’re  _ injured?” she asked, voice in disbelief. How had this woman lived for so long and remain such a  _ fool?  _ Giving medicine to someone who had tried to kill you, but not yourself? Justice this, justice that… there were few people who made Petrine’s nose curl up more than those pretending to be right. As if one person’s right wasn’t another person’s wrong. One true definition of ‘justice’ didn’t even exist, so why bother attempting to live by it?

Only… this woman wasn’t pretending, was she?

“Maybe I did.” Titania stretched out her right arm, testing it. “It was the only one not broken from the fall.” She pulled her arm slowly towards her - as soon as it bent at a large angle, she winced and immediately shook it out. “You won’t kill me.”

“For someone who just threatened to kill  _ me,  _ you’re awfully confident in those words.”

There was a loud rattle; Petrine watched, mouth slightly ajar, as one of Titania’s pauldrons wobbled on the rock before coming to an halt.

“Just  _ what  _ are you—”

“You can take first watch,” Titania said. “I doubt that there will be any bandits or trouble at all—” The other pauldron fell— “but better safe than sorry.”

“That’s  _ not  _ what I—”

A gauntlet clattered. “Just start a fire before I sleep.”

“How  _ dare  _ you—”

Titania paused midway through unbuckling her chest piece. She didn’t say anything. Just - looked at Petrine.

There was expectation in her eyes. Not fear. Not hatred. Something much more kinder than those.

She didn’t know how to reply, so she didn’t. Petrine stood up with a grunt and ripped off some cloth from her tattered cape, having been ruined in the previous battle. She tore it up into several tiny strands, then walked over in front of Titania and bundled them. She snapped her fingers. The pile caught alight. Smoke clustered to the ceiling of the shallow cave, slowly drifting towards the sea and scattering into the world beyond.

The air tasted of salt and smoke.

Titania gave a little smile. It was a fond thing, one that made something in Petrine’s stomach flip and churn. Perhaps it was just a side-effect of the concoction.

They remained in silence until Titania had her hair curled up under her head, using it as a pillow. She didn’t have an inch of armour on. Her poleaxe laid beside her, close enough that she would have it in hand as soon as she awoke.

“Good night,” Titania called.

Petrine snorted. “...Night,” she bit out.

It was at the first hint of the stars that Petrine stood, stretching from where she’d been sat on the sand. An inexplicable urge overcame her, then, one that made her peel off a glove and dip her fingers into the sand. She lifted her hand, watching the grains dispense and fall back to where they’d come from.

A seashell laid in the palm of her hand. Her first instinct was to hurl it into the sea. Instead, she held it up to the starlight with a scowl.

It was a perfectly ordinary looking object. Smooth and pale, with a small ridge along its edge. Absolutely nothing special about it at all.

Petrine pocketed it and turned back.

The fire was smouldering by now, hacking out smoke and naught else, so Petrine ground it to ash underneath her boot. When that was done, she crouched down next to Titania, her foot accidentally hitting her weapon’s pole. As she was facing away from the shore - another amateur mistake - it was too dark to make out her face.

Not that Petrine would have  _ wanted  _ to see her face.

It would be so laughably easy to kill her. She had the perfect tool and everything. All Petrine had to do was stab her through her stupidly armourless chest and throw her body to the waves. The fact that she hadn’t even awakened was -  _ staggering. This  _ was the deputy commander of the mercenary company they’d spent months hunting down? Somebody who left herself utterly defenceless at the mercy of someone who’d tried to kill her just hours before?

...It would be insulting to kill her as she was. To take her life without a challenge.

Sighing, Petrine began to take off her own armour. She was careful to keep quiet, and laid each piece next to Titania’s own. Perhaps another person would have found a certain type of poetry at the sight; pieces of white and black, from two different nations, side-by-side.

Alas, Petrine was not a scholar. She was a warrior, and she was exhausted, and injured, and weak.

Once done, she laid down next to Titania and was asleep in less time than what she would have liked. She didn’t notice the slit of emerald watching her, before Titania smiled and went back to sleep, her eyes sliding shut.

* * *

Petrine shook Titania awake at the crack of dawn, and they were scaling the mountainside while the sun itself was still shrugging off the blanket of night. It was, truthfully, a significantly easier climb than what they had been expecting. Several paths littered the cliffside, none of them overly difficult or taxing. Some of them could have even been used to transport carts, once upon a time. Of course, most of them had since fallen to ruin, with dangling vines and crumbling boulders, but Petrine would gladly traverse these paths.

It was a quiet walk, but an oddly comfortable one. Petrine was used to long marches in utter silence, her soldiers often too terrified to even  _ look  _ in her direction. And while she thrived and fed on that fear, that terror, she hadn’t quite realised just how…  _ lonely  _ it was.

Titania would often speak with little comments, such as admiring flowers or talking about the view. She didn’t act as though Petrine was an enemy. Perhaps, just as this was a respite for Petrine, this was one for her too. There was no need for the two of them to argue. They had no need to fight.

She didn’t seem to mind muted replies, which Petrine was thankful for. There were too many swirling, confusing, befuddled feelings swarming around inside her, especially when she looked at Titania. The sun would often catch her from behind and make her  _ glow  _ with a beauty Petrine couldn’t tear her eyes away from. She’d never called anyone  _ beautiful  _ before. But she was. Anyone with eyes could see that. It wasn’t just Petrine.

The top of the cliff greeted them just as the sun reached its peak in the sky. Titania let out a mighty sigh, running her arm over her forehead, then shot a grin towards Petrine’s direction.

Petrine spotted it, but only just; her main attraction was focused on the series of tents set up close by, with the Crimean flag proudly waving in the air.

“I promised you they won’t harm you,” Titania said.

Petrine opened her mouth—

A blast of wind howled towards her. Were it not for Titania pulling her back with a yell, Petrine would have fallen off that damned cliff yet again.

_ “YOU!” _

The voice was young, masculine, a tone that Petrine distantly recalled. She glanced over towards the spell’s direction, then down, only to see the tiny boy she’d gotten so close to murdering before.

Her eyes caught on the brand on his forehead, the sheer  _ hatred  _ furrowing his brow, the snarl on his lips. It wasn’t as appealing a sight as it once had been.

“Soren!” Titania shouted. Her hand was still gripping Petrine’s bicep. “Stand down! She saved my life!”

“She—”

“I promised her we would not harm her. Now  _ stand down!” _

Seconds dragged by. Then, Soren hissed, snapping his hand down back to his side and gripping his sleeve. He didn’t have a tome in his hand.

To produce such powerful magic without a medium… even for a  _ parentless… _

“What madness is this?” he bit out.

“Do you have my supplies?” Titania asked.

“In my tent, yes, but Ike is in there—”

“Then he’ll be delighted to see me.” Titania let go of Petrine and marched past. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t kill each other.”

She stopped, suddenly, right as she got to the boy, bending down to give him a tight hug. He squawked, arms flapping in the air, but eventually hugged her back just as fiercely. His face was bright red as she pulled away and went into a nearby tent.

Petrine stared at him.

He stared at her.

It was ironic, in a sense. They were both rejected by the world, and yet, here they stood as enemies. The enemy of your enemy wasn’t really your friend.

No one was her friend.

Her eyes drifted towards the tent.

Neither of them spoke.

Titania came out a few minutes later with a pack in her hands. She gave the boy’s hair a ruffle as she strolled past, snorting when he tried to squat her away.

“You couldn’t hurt a fly,” she teased. “Go back to your tent. I’ll see her off. Ike was looking pretty stressed in there.”

He pursed his lips, looking every bit the child he was, before sighing. “Call me out if anything happens. If she harms you—”

“You’ll rip her limb to limb and suffocate her. I know.”

“As long as you do.” He gave a miniscule smile before strolling off, robes swaying behind him.

“Sorry about him,” Titania murmured. “He’s a very soft person. He was just worried.”

_ “Soft..?”  _ Petrine echoed in disbelief. Titania just smiled fondly, like how Petrine had seen mothers look at their children.

“I wanted to give you this.” Titania held out the pack she had in her arms. “Since I don’t imagine you’ll be returning to the Daein army.”

“I won’t…” Petrine crossed her arms. “I am one of the Four Riders. You expect me to just - run away, like a  _ coward?” _

“I knew someone who was in a very similar position to yourself, once,” Titania murmured. Her eyes were melancholic, glazed over with memories, and her next words came out as a low whisper. “He was much happier when he left.” She coughed and looked back up, eyes bright. “It isn’t running away, nor cowardice. Not if you’ve never had a chance to be happy.”

“Excuse me?”

One of Titania’s hands rested a bit above her own right breast. The brand Petrine had once so proudly shown off - that mark of  _ “I’m dangerous, don’t come near me, I’ll hurt you”  _ \- stung so deeply. Not with the need to hide it, but with a shame she couldn’t name. Not quite yet.

“That mark of yours,” Titania said quietly, “it doesn’t doom you to a life of isolation. Look at Soren. I think he’s doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“I’m not—”

“You shouldn’t hate yourself for something you can’t control. Same for the beorc,  _ and  _ the laguz.”

Petrine’s mouth was clamped shut. She had no words she could say, even if she wanted to. When she opened her mouth to try, the snake of hatred coiling inside her caught tight around her throat. She swallowed.

Titania’s eyes softened. She held out the pack.

Petrine took it with her hands (that most certainly were  _ not  _ trembling) and pulled back. For a brief second, she brushed Titania’s hand, and it felt hotter than touching the sun.

“...Thank you,” Petrine eventually said. The words felt utterly foreign on her tongue. Had she ever said them to another before?

...She should have been kinder to Ena. She hadn’t been as terrible as most other people Petrine had met.

Beaming, Titania rested both of her hands on her shoulders. “Take care of yourself.”

Without warning, she pulled Petrine against her. It took her a few seconds of standing utterly still before Petrine’s panicked mind realised that she was being  _ hugged. _

She couldn’t… she couldn’t remember anyone ever having hugged her before. Hell, apart from Titania, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had  _ touched  _ her without ill intent.

Petrine squeezed her stinging eyes shut. She rested her arms on Titania’s back, drinking in every inch of heat the other woman had. She was so warm that it was almost smothering.

Eventually, Titania pulled back with a small smile.

“I’ll see you,” she said. She leaned forward, still smiling—

A bizarre kind of wet heat pecked Petrine’s cheek. It was only when Titania pulled away that Petrine realised that it was meant to be a  _ kiss. _

She had no words. Her hand poked her own cheek slowly, unable to comprehend what had happened. Titania snorted, chuckling behind her hand. Her laughter was a pleasant sound.

“I’d advise you to leave now,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. But, no, Petrine  _ had  _ to be imagining that - but Titania had just—

“Take care of yourself,” Petrine somehow blurted out.

“I will.” Titania smiled. “Same to you.”

Nodding stiffly, Petrine held the pack against her chest and turned on her foot.

She started to walk south and refused to look back, least that knight’s gentle eyes dissuade her from leaving altogether. She would go, neither to Crimea nor Daein, but down a new path that she would walk herself.

Eventually, a bit down the hill, she stood in the shade of an impressive oak tree. Her body still twinged and ached from the fall into the sea.

Petrine pulled off the top of the pack Titania had given her. Inside laid several concoctions, their glass bottles tinking against one another, along with bandages and a change of clothes. There were also other objects wrapped inside the clothing. On top of all of those laid a simple gold band. Several strands of ginger hair curled around it.

_ You soft-hearted imbecile, _ Petrine thought, with more kindness than she thought she could ever have.

Unused to tying up her hair in any form, it took her a short while to twist it into a suitable shape. When she was done, she tugged on the band and held it in her hand. The chill of its metal dug into her palm like a heavy weight. The afternoon sun reflected off it.

...It was a change, but not an unpleasant one. Releasing a sigh, Petrine let go of her hair.

She walked forward, unsure of what awaited her, but somehow eager, all the same. The thoughts of that strange, fierce, gentle knight, with cool eyes like emeralds and hair like flames, never left her mind.

As she went to close the pack, paper crinkled at the bottom. Making a confused noise, Petrine tugged it out. It was a single sheet with a single sentence:

_ “See you soon.” _

“You fool,” Petrine murmured. She couldn’t stop smiling.

She folded it up neatly and tucked it into a pocket in the pack.

It was time to find her own purpose, yes, but the thought of meeting Titania again was one that would keep her going. Not as warriors on the opposite sides of war, but… as companions.

As  _ friends.  _ Or even…

Well. Regardless of what they would end up meeting as, Petrine was very much looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/greenpiggles) i just love post about tellius and claude on it tbh
> 
> if you enjoyed, consider leaving a kudos/comment!! they're a big boost to any writer, many thanks~


End file.
